


Mean Guys

by Robottko



Series: On Mondays We Wear Red [1]
Category: Mean Girls (2004), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Apologies, But not really Crack, Fluff and Crack, I'm taking crack seriously, John is Cady, M/M, Sherlock is Aaron Samuels, and Lestrade is too gay to function
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robottko/pseuds/Robottko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John Watson moves to London after living in Afghanistan with his family for four years, he thinks his living in the middle of war is finally over. He soon realises that the war is never over, but takes a new shape in the form of Victor Trevor and his posse, the Plastics.</p><p>*A Sherlock Holmes fic set in the Mean Girls universe*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Oh my god, what have I done? I kept seeing Sherlock Holmes/Mean Girls gif sets, and I couldn't get it out of my brain, so I accidentally fic'd it. Oops.
> 
> If you read all this, give yourself a cookie. You've earned it, you masochist, you.
> 
> All my love,
> 
> Robottko

**Ch. 1**

I try my best to smile as the camera flashes. My mum is clinging onto my arm, crying into the new jumper she bought me for school.

“My baby is going to school.” She blubbers, and I give her a reassuring pat on the back, which my dad catches immediately with his camera.

I suppose it’s natural for parents to cry on their kid’s first day of school, but this usually happens when the kid is five. I’m 16, and until today, I was home-schooled. I know what you’re thinking, home-school kids are freaks, or are super religious. But my family’s not like that. We’re pretty normal, except for the fact that I grew up in Afghanistan. My father was in the military, and so we spent the last four years living nearby the army base where my dad was stationed. But now his years of active duty are up, and we’re back to living in London. Well, most of us. My older sister, Harry, decided to go to Uni in America.

A few pictures later, and the three of us are piled in a car on the way to my new school, St. Bart’s Prep. It’s only a few blocks away, but my parents insist upon bringing me there themselves.

“I know you’ll make us proud, John.” My dad says as they pull up in front of St. Bart’s.

“Thanks dad. I’ll see you guys after school.” I say, getting out of the car, flinging my bag over my shoulder. I walk quickly to the school, avoiding the groups of people I see waiting on the lawn. It’s not that I didn’t want to socialise, I just wanted to get to my first class before school started.

\--

It didn’t take me long to find my first class of the day: Advanced Biology with Dr. Hooper. The classroom was almost full, and I looked around quickly, trying to figure out which seat to take. My eyes landed on the closest seat, and I made a beeline towards it.

“You don’t want to sit there.” I hear a voice say, and I looked for the source. Two guys a couple seats down were looking back at me with identical grin’s on their faces. Both of them were brunette, but the slimmer of the two was already starting to go silver. “Sally Donovan sits there. It’s right next to her boyfriend, Mark Anderson, and they spend their time getting to know each other better.” The one with the brown and silver hair boy continued.

“Getting to know each other?” I was confused. Did they talk turning class?

“Making out.” The other says with a hearty chuckle. I cough in mortification, heading for a different seat.

“Oh god, not there!” The brown and silver haired boy says. “Henry Knight sits there, and he has night terrors when he sleeps.”

Sure enough, the boy named Henry looked as though he were about to doze off. I walk away from him quickly, choosing to sit next to the two boys instead.

“Good choice. My name is Greg Lestrade.” The boy with the brown and silver hair said, a grin on his face. “And that’s Mike Stamford.” He pointed to the larger boy, who waved.

“Nice to meet you. I’m John Watson.” I introduce myself, shaking their hands.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Mike says, and I nod.

“Moved here from Afghanistan. My dad was in the army.” I explain quickly, “We lived there for four years…so since I was 12.”

“12? That means you’re 16 now.” Mike is clearly surprised. “What are you doing in an advanced bio class?”

“I’ve always been really good at biology.” I say with a shrug. “Best in my class…then again, I was home-schooled.” Mike laughs at my lame joke, which in turn makes Greg and I grin.

“Sorry to say you won’t be the best anymore.” Greg says as Mike calms down. “We’ve got a genius in the class.”

“A genius?” I smirk. Clearly they’re having me on.

“Yeah, his name is Sherlock Holmes. He’s brilliant, and also a psychopath.” Mike rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a psychopath, Stamford, I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research.” A cold voice says from behind me. I watch Mike wince before I turn around to see the owner of the voice. He’s tall, with pale skin and dark curls. What really catches my attention is his eyes. They’re an impossible shade of blue, or possibly green.

“Hi, I’m John Watson.” I say with a grin. Sherlock grimaces at me as if I’ve made a fashion faux-pas. Which I might have, I don’t really know.

“Introductions?” He sneers. “How tedious. Another boring student in this miserable system our government calls _education._ ” He moves to the chair behind me, sitting unceremoniously.

“I’m not boring.” I say, turning to look at him. “You don’t even know me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Greg and Mike making faces. Apparently I’ve done something wrong, but I can’t imagine what.

“I know you’re a transfer student. Your father served in the military in either Afghanistan or Iraq. Unsure of which, but it doesn’t matter at the moment. You’re the second child, you have an elder brother who’s already left for university, living far enough away that you rarely see him. Most likely out of the country. Your ambition is to be like your father, a hero in the army. Most likely a medical doctor out there.”

My jaw drops, and I stare at him in amazement. An odd look crosses his face, as though he’s preparing for me to attack him.

“That was amazing!” I said, laughing slightly. “You got everything right. How did you know all that stuff?”

Sherlock gives me a half smile before replying. “Your tan. It’s dark, but it stops at the wrist. You weren’t on vacation. Your bag, which is a military standard, has a name on it: ‘Harry’. That isn’t your name, unlikely your fathers judging by the writing style. So, elder brother. The way you walk also suggests youngest child, but you have a confidence about you that hints at only child. Therefore, your brother just moved away, likely to Uni. As for your ambitions, it’s clear in the way you sit. It’s influenced by the military. You had positive experiences. The medical doctor was a shot in the dark, but a good one. All your extracurricular classes point towards an interest in medicine.”

“Incredible.” I say.

“You think so?” Sherlock looks pleased.

“Of course it was incredible.” I chuckle, slightly.

“That’s not what most people say.” Sherlock says, watching me as if he’s revaluating my worth.

“What do most people say?” I ask.

“Piss off.” Sherlock responds, a wry smile on his face. “So, was I correct about everything?”

“Nearly.” I smile at the surprised look on Sherlock’s face. “Harry is short for Harriet.”

\--

During lunchtime I found myself sitting with Greg and Mike at a table by the wall. They were currently going over where every clique sat, though I could hardly pay attention.

“Where does Sherlock sit?” I blurt out, causing both boys to look at me.

“Sherlock rarely comes to lunch.” Mike says finally. “And the only time he does, he sits with the Plastics.”

“Plastics?” I give Mike a confused look.

“They’re the most popular guys in school.” Greg explains, pointing over to a table where three guys sat. “They’re on the rugby team, and whatever they say or do is basically law.”

“The short, dark haired one is Jim Moriarty.” Mike says. “He’s super cute, and super dumb. He’s from Ireland, though, so all the girls and guys like him.”

“The tall blond is Sebastian Moran.” Greg picked up, pointing to a nasty looking boy. “His parents are really rich. I think his dad invented a new bomb or something.”

“And who’s the last one?” I ask, pointing at the one whose name I didn’t know. He had light brown hair, tanned skin, and bright, white teeth. He was about as tall as Sherlock, and just as handsome.

“That’s Victor Trevor.” Mike says. “He’s the leader of their little group.”

“And he’s Sherlock’s on-again off-again boyfriend.” Greg says. “Victor is quite attached to Sherlock, so I wouldn’t make any moves.”

“Make any…no!” I go red from embarrassment. “It’s not like that.”

“Shut up, yes it is.” Mike grins at me, and I toss a roll at his face.

“Just be careful.” Greg laughs. “Victor isn’t afraid to get dirty to get what he wants. I would stay away from him.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

I didn’t think staying away from Victor Trevor or his group of plastics would be too difficult. It was clear that they would never even know of my existence, let alone deign to talk to me.

Boy, was I wrong.

“Dang it, I forgot milk.” Mike pouts at his lunch tray. “This is a tragedy of epic proportions. How am I supposed to eat my lunch without milk?”

“You’re such a drama queen, Mike.” Greg was grinning.

“I’m not the queen of this group.” Mike sniffs, looking faux-offended.

“What?” I was trying to keep up with the conversation, failing miserably.

“Greg is too gay to function.” Mike explains to me, laughing at whatever reaction my face happened to twist itself into. I look over at Greg, and he has a pleased smile on his face.

“Guilty.” He chuckles. “Don’t look so surprised, John.”

“I’m not.” I say slowly.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Mike says, taking his turn to chuck a roll at me. “And the rules at this table state that if you’re a terrible liar, you have to go get me milk.”

“When did we make these rules?” Greg looks at Mike in confusion.

“Right now. I also elected myself king while you were busy talking. Now, get me my milk!” Mike says, a grin on his face.

“Alright, your majesty. I’ll be back soon.” I stand, stretching slightly before making my way towards the front of the lunchroom, my gaze focused on the cooler that held the milk.

A short, mousy brunette stops me halfway to the cooler, a small smirk on his face.

“We’re taking a survey of all the new students.” He begins smoothly. “Can you answer a few quick questions?”

“I suppose so.” I say, unsure of what kind of survey this could be.

“Is your cherry popped?” The boy asks me. I stare at him in complete confusion. What on earth is he talking about? Was that some sort of dessert option in the lunch line?

“Excuse me?” I ask politely.

“Would you like me to assign someone to pop your cherry?” He continues, and I am even more confused. Is he offering to buy me a dessert? I’m not fond of cherries, but I would happily eat something pear flavoured. As I open my mouth to tell him this, another voice interrupts.

“Is he bothering you?” The voice says. It’s a rich tenor voice, and I automatically know who it belongs to, even though I’ve never heard the man speak before. I turn around to see Victor Trevor standing there. He gives me a small smile before turning his brown eyes on the other boy. “God, Carl, why are you such a skeez?”

“I was being nice to the new student.” Carl says, shrugging his shoulders. “Or is it against the rules for me to talk to the new student?”

“You were supposed to call me last night.” A deep voice says. Sebastian glares at Carl, who gives the tall blond a weak grin.

“Carl, you don’t come to a party at my house with Sebby, then hit on some innocent boy in front of us a few days later.” Victor turns to me once more. “Do you want to have sex with him?”

“What? God, no.” I splutter, shaking my head frantically.

Victor looks at Carl with a smile on his face, though it’s unlike any smile I’ve seen before. Victor looks like he would very much like to tear Carl apart. Carl takes a step back, any smugness completely gone.

“Good. That’s settled then. Goodbye Carl.” Victor dismisses the small brunette, who practically sprints out of the lunchroom.

“Thanks.” I say to Victor, turning to continue my journey to the milk cooler. A hand on my shoulder stops me.

“Sit down with us.” Victor says, and it’s fairly clear that I don’t have much of a choice. I nod, and Victor’s hand drops away from my shoulder as he moves back to his chair. I sit across from him, glancing briefly at Sebastian Moran and Jim Moriarty. The later wiggles his fingers in a bright hello, and I can’t help but reciprocate his smile. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Oh…Um, I’m John Watson.” I say quickly, turning back to Victor. “I just moved here a few weeks ago from Afghanistan.”

“If you’re from Afghanistan, why are you white?” Jim asks, confusion clear on his face. I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out if he’s joking or not.

“Oh my god, Jim.” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You can’t just ask people why they’re _white._ ”

Jim opens his mouth to say something, but he is quickly cut off by Victor.

“Oh my god, I love your jumper! Where did you get it?” The tall brunette says, his eyes focused on me.

“Second hand store.” I tell him, looking down at my multi-coloured jumper. “In London. My mum bought it for me as a ‘first day of school’ gift.”

“That’s pretty nifty.” Sebastian says, a small grin on his face.

“Nifty?” Victor turns to Sebastian, annoyance and disgust on his face. “What the hell is ‘Nifty’?”

“It’s like…slang. From America.” Sebastian defends quickly. “I means cool or awesome. It’s going to catch on here really soon.”

Victor rolls his eyes at Sebastian, placing a clearly fake smile expertly on his face when he turns to me. “Excuse us for one second, yeah?” He says. Before I can answer, Jim, Sebastian and Victor huddle in a tight circle, and I can’t make out what they’re saying. Mike and Greg catch my eye, and I shrug in confusion. Before they can ask any more non-verbal questions across the lunchroom, the three boys turn back to me with large grins on their faces.

“Okay, we don’t do this a lot, so you should know that this is a huge deal.” Victor says before I can ask them what’s going on. He flicks a look at Sebastian, who picks up on the one sided conversation effortlessly. It’s like they planned it or something.

“We want to invite you to eat lunch with us every day for the rest of the year.” The tall blond says. It’s clear that, even though this is an invitation, I’m not allowed to decline. The bell that signals the end of lunch rings shrilly, and I find myself at the intense scrutiny of three pairs of eyes.

“Um…yeah. Okay.” I agree.

“Great!” Victor says, his already large grin growing bigger. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“And remember!” Jim speaks, his Irish brogue softens his words. “On Tuesdays we wear green!”

 

\--

 

“You have to do it!” Greg and Mike have swept me into a loo, interrogating me as to what had happened during lunch. Mike has completely forgotten his annoyance that I never got his milk, and he is far more interested in my tale. Greg continues talking as his face grows ever more amused. “You have to do it, and then tell us about ever awful thing Victor says!”

“Victor didn’t seem that bad.” I reply softly. A little bossy, perhaps, but not mean. “He actually seems nice.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Greg shakes his head. “Victor Trevor is _not_ nice. He’s the most…plastic of The Plastics.”

“He’s fabulous.” Mike agrees solemnly. “But he’s evil.”

“I don’t know…what would we even talk about?” I ask. I must be mad to even consider this.

“Lady Gaga?” Mike suggested.

“The rising cost of hair product?” Greg grins. “Please say you’ll do it!”

“Yeah, fine.” I laugh, shaking my head slowly. “Do either of you own any green shirts?”

“I do.” Mike says. “I’ll bring it for you tomorrow.”

 

\--

 

The end of the day rapidly approaches, and all too soon, I find myself leaving St. Bart’s. Walking down the stone steps that I found so imposing just that morning. As I dart around the corner, heading for home, I run solidly into someone who is leaning against the wall. We fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“Christ! Sorry.” I apologise, pulling myself off the boy. I flush in embarrassment when I realise who I ran into.

“Ah, hello John.” Sherlock says, the annoyance falling off his face when he glances up at me. “I would say it’s been a pleasure running into you, but I rather loath the obvious pun the sentence promotes.”

I can’t help but chuckle, and I stand, offering my hand to Sherlock. He accepts, and I pull him up quickly.

“Too late, you said it. You’ve committed the worst of pun crimes.” I say, and I am rewarded with a quick twitch of his lips. “I met your boyfriend today.”

Sherlock looks confused for a brief second, bringing a cigarette to his lips and lighting it with a quick flick of a small lighter. His expression clears, and he rolls his eyes at me.

“We are not currently dating.” Sherlock informs me, blowing a plume of smoke between his lips. It’s almost artistic, and he’s clearly mastered and I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t so against smoking.

“Right. Good.” I respond without thinking. “Christ…I mean… _not_ good. Unless you broke it off, which…um…good on you.” My face heats again, and I am mortified to see a smirk growing on Sherlock’s face.

“John-” He begins, but I cut him off, tugging at my bag straps.

“I’ve got to get home.” I say quickly. “I’ll see you later.”

I walk away before Sherlock can say anything else. Not once to I turn and look back, but I swear I can feel Sherlock’s eyes assessing me as I leave, his gaze pinned to my figure before I turn a corner and am out of his sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if going with the word "Nifty" instead of "Fetch" threw you off. I debated for a really long time what word I was going to use. I though "Fetch" sounded far too valleygirl for Moran, and I have an eternal love-affair with the word "Nifty." (It will make a comeback, I tell you!)
> 
> Thank you so much for your endless patience as I worked on my second chapter. I want to thank QuinnAnderson for the marvelous review on fuckyeahteenlock. It was so wonderful, and it completely made my day/week/month. 
> 
> Seriously, I thought that maybe two people would read this, and find it mediocre. You all are lovely, and I hope you like this chapter. 
> 
> Remember, this isn't beta'd, nor is it britpicked. Feel free to point out any mistakes.
> 
> Yours,  
> Robottko


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

The next afternoon I find myself sitting with the plastics, wearing an oversized green t-shirt of Mike’s that reached my mid-thighs. I had arrived before Victor, but Jim and Sebastian had beat me to the table. I didn’t consider this an entirely terrible thing, because the pair were giving me pointers on how to be cool, or something.

“Red clothing is reserved for Mondays.” Sebastian says, eating a spoonful of what I suspect is corn, though the bright orange colour was throwing me off. “And green for Tuesday. You’re not allowed to wear t-shirts two days in a row, and you’re only allowed to have your hair product free once a week…I guess you picked today.” His eyes flicked up to my hair, which was lying nice and chemical-free against my scalp.

“And if you break any of these rules, you can’t sit with us at lunch.” Jim pipes in, taking a large bite out of an orange, which seems to be a normal colour, thank god.

“We always vote before we ask someone to eat lunch with us.” Sebastian continues as if he never stopped speaking. “Because you have to be considerate of the rest of the group. Same goes with potential boyfriends or girlfriends. You might think you like someone, but you could be wrong.” I’m not sure if I imagine it, but I think I see Sebastian glance over at Jim before turning back to me.

“Has anyone caught your eye?” Jim asks me cheerfully, completely oblivious to Sebastian.

“Well…” I say, my cheeks reddening. How do I tell them that not only has someone ‘caught’ my eye, but that person is, most decidedly, a boy? I roll my eyes internally, realising that all three of them are gay, so it wouldn’t really matter, would it? “There is this guy in my biology class…”

“Who is it?” Sebastian asks quickly, “Do we know him?”

“Um…” I begin, looking around the cafeteria for a distraction. This turns out to be a bad idea, because it turns out Sherlock Holmes has decided to eat lunch today. I might have been looking for too long, because when I turn back to Jim and Sebastian, they are looking at me with shock.

“No!” Sebastian shakes his head emphatically.

“No no no.” Jim agrees with Sebastian, his normally pleasant demeanour gone. “You can’t like Sherlock Holmes, that’s Victor’s ex.”

“They’ve been going out on and off for about a year.” Sebastian says. “Sherlock broke up with Victor for no good reason a couple of weeks ago.”

“Victor cheated on Sherlock.” Jim reminds the tall blond.

“It doesn’t matter. Ex-boyfriends are off limits.” Sebastian waves Jim’s words away. “Don’t worry, John. We won’t tell Victor what you said. It will be our little secret.”

I nod, completely mortified. I highly doubt it would matter if Victor knew or not. I would never be seen as competition to the tall brunette boy. I glance over, surprised to see Sherlock walking towards our little group, though I shouldn’t have been. Greg and Mike told me that Sherlock eats here when he, you know, deigns to eat.

“Moran, Moriarty.” Sherlock says coolly, setting his lunch tray on the table, plopping into the seat next to me. “John. I didn’t realise you sat here.”

“Invited yesterday.” I say, quickly taking a wedge of orange and popping it into my mouth. “Victor saved me from Carl….um…” I never did catch a last name

“Carl who?” Sherlock asks, looking confused.

“Carl Powers.” Sebastian says, looking annoyed. “He’s on the swim team. He was hitting on John.”

Sherlock gets a look on his face that I can’t decipher. I open my mouth to ask if he’s alright, but I’m quickly interrupted by Victor, who is fashionably late.

“Sherlock!” Victor grins, “You’re eating with us today. We’ve missed you so much. You probably haven’t met the newest member of our group! Sherlock this is…John, what are you wearing?” Victor’s face wrinkles when he sees my shirt.

“I didn’t have any green, so I had to borrow something.” I say quickly, trying to look unaffected. It’s really quite mortifying, though.

“Don’t worry, John. You look fine.” Sherlock tells me, and I grin in response. I figure that even if I wasn’t allowed to like Sherlock, I could still look at him.

“Whatever.” Victor says, rolling his eyes in a way that suggests he was bored with the conversation. “Did you see the jeans Glen Coco was wearing today? I think this is the third time this week he’s worn them!”

 

\--

 

It was later, after I had gotten home and swapped the large green t-shirt for a more comfortable jumper that I got a text.

I was in my bathroom, attempting to figure out how to apply product in my hair-really, that stuff is difficult to figure out-when my phone buzzes. I jump slightly before picking up the mobile, surprised to see an unknown number instead of Mike asking when he would get his shirt back. I open the message, frowning at its contents.

 

**St. Bart’s, near the pool. Come at once if convenient.**

**SH**

Who is this person, and why do they want me to go to the pool? I delete the message, thinking they probably got the wrong number. Less than a minute later, however, I receive another one.

 

**If inconvenient, come anyway.**

**SH**

I study the initials closer this time. I only know one person with those initials, and I never gave him my number. It couldn’t possibly be him, could it? I type out a short response, sending it before I can talk myself out of it.

 

**Sherlock? Is this you?**

The reply is almost immediate, and even though I’ve only known Sherlock for a couple of days, there is no doubt in my mind that it’s him.

 

**Obviously. Don’t ask ridiculous questions, John.**

**SH**

I snort at the response, but before I can ask him how he got my number, I get yet another text from him.

 

**Could be dangerous.**

**SH**

I tell myself that I’m only going to keep the idiot out of danger, because I’m not allowed to like him. And just because I’m not allowed to like him doesn’t mean I can’t be his friend, right? After all, the Plastics are his friend, even though Victor dated Sherlock, and I’m part of the Plastics.

That sounds so much better in my head than it does on paper.

 

\--

 

I arrive at St. Bart’s, surprised to see the place swarming with all different kinds of emergency personnel. I wonder if Sherlock went and got hurt, but before the fear can fully form, I spot the tall brunette arguing with a police officer.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, jogging up to them. The police officer makes a face, clearly annoyed that there are now two of us. “What happened?”

“Carl Powers.” Sherlock says, turning to me. There is an excited glint in his eyes that knocks the breath out of me. “He was murdered.”

“He wasn’t murdered, he drowned in the pool!” The officer says, and I have a feeling this isn’t the first time he’s saying it. “It was an accident, nothing more.”

“Carl Powers?” I ask, surprised that I know the name. “That’s the boy that stopped me in the cafeteria yesterday.”

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, studying me more intently. Flustered, I take a step back, unsure of the scrutiny. It looks as though Sherlock is trying to make a connection between the death of Carl Powers and me.

“What?” I ask, taking a step back. “I didn’t to it.”

“Of course you didn’t do it, kid.” The officer sighs. “He drowned, nothing more.”

“His shoes.” Sherlock said, his attention shifting back to the officer. “They’re missing.”

“Yeah, I know.” The officer said, “We think someone came to get them.”

“None of his other clothes were gone!” Sherlock grinds out, looking extremely annoyed. “It’s obviously murder, and all of you are too idiotic to notice!”

The officer looks at me pleadingly. “Kid, you and your boyfriend need to leave. This isn’t a place for kids to be hanging out.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I say quickly, just as Sherlock is saying “We’re not kids!”

“Yeah yeah,” The officer sighs, turning from us. “Get out of here before you’re escorted off the property.”

I sigh, turning to look at Sherlock. He looks furious at being ignored.

“If it helps at all, I believe you.” I offer. He turns to look at me, softening slightly.

“You are hardly an authority figure on the subject, but I thank you for your support.” He says, and though the words should be offensive, there isn’t any bite in them. I grin at Sherlock.

“So, how did you get my number?” I ask as we walk away from the small crowd. Sherlock smirks at me, pulling out a cigarette.

“It was hardly difficult.” He says, lighting the fag. “I cornered Lestrade before our physical education class. While questioning him on his opinions of the current market, I stole his phone. Sure enough, he had your number. I memorised it before giving his mobile back to him.”

I laughed, running a hand through my hair, annoyed when it came back sticky.

“First time using product?” Sherlock asked, glancing up at my hair, which I am sure was sticking up all over the place.

“Yeah, never got the hang of it.” I say. “You know, you could have just asked me for my number. It would have been easier.”

“But this was far more exciting.” Sherlock chuckled, reaching out to smooth down my fringe. I freeze, and Sherlock seems to come to his senses, pulling his hand away quickly.

“Right, well this has been fun.” I say, willing my face not to turn red.

“Quite.” Sherlock comments, a smirk on his face once more. “And you make an excellent assistant, John. Even though we never managed to get in to look at the crime scene. I do believe we’ll have to do this again.”

“What, stand outside a crime scene, demanding to be let in?” I chuckled.

“No, actually solve a crime.” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “We will find out who murdered Carl Powers, John. Mark my words.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the wonderful comments. You all brighten my day so much. As always, tell me what you think, any mistakes you find, or suggestions you have. 
> 
> Naturally,
> 
> Robottko


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

 

It turns out that solving a crime with no evidence is a lot harder to do than you would expect. Not that such a minor inconvenience would stop Sherlock Holmes.

“Where are you going?” I ask Sherlock as he trails me home. He gives me a look that seems to question my intelligence.

“Obvious, John. I’m going to your house.” He quips, his thumbs flying across the buttons on his mobile.

“Er…why?” I ask, barely surprised that he invited himself over.

“Because my brother will snoop if we go to mine.” Sherlock says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” I roll my eyes. “Why are we hanging out?”

“Why not?” Sherlock smirks, pocketing his mobile. “You’re my assistant, and I am trying to solve a murder.”

“At my house?” I ask as we make it to the door. “Won’t that be a little difficult?”

“Only to an untrained mind.” Sherlock said, walking into my house just after me. “Ah, this must be your family!”

My mum and dad are sitting on the sofa in front of the telly.  Both of them look up in surprise when they hear us come in.

“Oh, hello!” My mum speaks first, coming over to shake Sherlock’s hand. “You must be one of Johnny’s new friends!”

“Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock says, grabbing her hand and kissing it, like he was some 15th century knight or something. Did people really still do that? “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Shooting a look of disbelief at Sherlock, I wave a hand at my parents. “Sherlock, this is my mum and dad. Mum and dad, Sherlock. Now, we have to go study.”

“Keep a door open!” My dad calls with a laugh, and I can feel my face turning bright red.

“Dad, not funny.” I say, which causes him to crack up even more. Shooting an apologetic look at Sherlock, I practically drag him into my room.

“Sorry about that.” I say as soon as I close the door. Sherlock just chuckles, flopping down on my bed without invitation.

“It’s hardly any trouble.” Sherlock says, almost to himself. “Your parents are much more pleasant than Victor or Moran’s parents.”

“What about Jim’s?” I ask conversationally.

“Never met them.” He replies, snatching up my laptop. I debate on complaining, but Sherlock doesn’t seem the type to care who’s stuff he’s using, or if it makes the person upset.

I look over Sherlock’s shoulder, trying to figure out what he’s doing. Apparently Facebook is a valuable tool for solving murders.

“Are you expecting to see a death threat on there or something?” I ask, causing Sherlock to snort. “Because that would be really stupid of the murderer…and I don’t think the police are that oblivious.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, John.” Sherlock rolled his eye. “I’m trying to figure out who would have motive to kill Powers. Tell me, when he hit on you yesterday, was anyone around to see it?”

“Er…yeah. The whole cafeteria.” I say. “Not that most of them paid much attention, mind. I’m nothing more than the new kid.”

“Oh, you’re much more than that, John. Or haven’t you heard?” Sherlock looks up at me, a small smirk on his face. “You’re a well-known lady killer according to the rumours Victor has been spreading. The female population knows you as ‘Three-Continents Watson’.”

“Three…what?” I blurt out, shaking my head in confusion. “I haven’t even slept with a girl.”

“You haven’t?” Sherlock’s smirk grew. “Interesting.”

“Oh, shut up.” I say with a roll of my eyes. My mobile chooses at that moment to beep, a welcome relief from Sherlock’s scrutiny. “One moment, I have to take this.”

Turning away from Sherlock, I answer my phone with a curt greeting. I wasn’t expecting the response that I received.

“I know your secret.” The voice was soft and slow, betraying no emotion. Victor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I reply instantaneously. Does Victor know that I’m currently hanging out with Sherlock? That I’m friends with Greg and Mike, who completely hate him?

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Victor says. “I don’t blame you…Sherlock is kind of cute.”

“What?” My brain is having difficulties keeping up with the conversation.

“You have a crush on Sherlock. Sebastian told me. It’s kind of sweet, actually.” Victor sounds as if he’s smiling, but not mockingly so. “I could talk to him, if you want. Find out how he feels about you?”

“That…you don’t have to do that.” I say, but I can’t help smile back. Victor seems like a really nice guy. A little strange, but nice.

“But I want to. You’re my friend now, and Sherlock is my friend. And that’s what friends do!” Victor sounds excited now. “Oh, you guys would make such a cute couple.”

“Well, thanks.” I reply. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course! Lunch table, same time, same place. Just don’t be too angry at Sebby.”

“I’m not angry at him.” I chuckle, shaking my head.

“Why not?” Victor sounds confused. “I mean, he did tell me your big secret, and he _promised_ you that he wouldn’t tell.”

“Er…that’s true.” I say slowly. “I mean, its fine. He’s probably just likes to gossip. But I’m not mad at him or anything.”

“Oh great!” Victor sounds pleased. “See Sebby, dear! Johnny isn’t mad at you!”

“I can’t believe you think I like to gossip.” Sebastian’s deep voice shocks me slightly. Apparently he had been listening in.

“Ciao, darling!” Victor crows, and my line goes dead. Well, that was interesting.

Shaking my head, I turn back to Sherlock, who is completely immersed in whatever research he was currently doing.

“There is a number of people who could have sufficient motive to murder Powers.” Sherlock sounds frustrated, and he thankfully didn’t seem to catch any of my conversation with Victor. “But no one is clever enough to have orchestrated it!”

“Maybe it was just a drowning.” I respond, and Sherlock shoots me a glare.

“Don’t be intentionally idiotic, John.” He says scathingly. “No, we’re just going to have to wait for another body to turn up before we can find the common denominator.”

“Another…you think this is going to happen again?” I splutter.

“I don’t think, I know.” Sherlock says, his face and tone smug. “The killer, or killers, are trying to make a point. What that point is, I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

 

\--

 

The rest of September and October passed in the same manner. I found myself getting closer to the Plastics, as well as Mike and Greg. My popularity skyrocketed until girls would hang around my locker, trying to talk to me, and I got great grades, making my mum and dad proud. But the best thing was my friendship with Sherlock Holmes. Even though there was a distinct lack of murders, Sherlock continued to come over to my house, stealing my laptop for research purposes. All in all, it was a good beginning to my first year in a London school. I was even invited to Victor Trevor’s annual Halloween party.

And that is where everything went to hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and comments. You really know how to make a girl feel special. I hope you enjoyed this transitiony type chapter. Remember, this is unbeta'd/not britpicked, so if you notice anything, feel free to tell me!  
> Yours truly,  
> Robottko


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5

“I’ve been invited to Victor Trevor’s annual Halloween party.” I tell Greg and Mike. It’s the early morning, and we’re currently hiding behind the school. Not my idea, of course. Mike seems to think that we need to hide when we hang out. Something about not giving away my secret identity or something, as if I’m some kind of superhero.

“You have to go.” Greg says at once, and I raise my eyebrow. “To see Victor in his natural habitat. You’ll see what he’s really like.”

“Victor is nice.” I repeat for what seems to be the millionth time since I’ve met Greg. “And I’ve been to Victor’s house before.”

“Yeah, but not for a party.” Mike said, and I shrugged. That was true. I always came up with some excuse to skive off the parties. This one looked to be unavoidable, though.

Not that it mattered. After all, Sherlock Holmes was going to be at this party. I hadn’t seen a lot of him recently. The lack of murders made it difficult to track the killer, so we were meeting less often. That didn’t stop him from randomly breaking into my room and using my laptop for research. It only happened once a week, if that, and I was really missing him.

“I planned on going.” I said. “I’ve never been to a Halloween party before, so it’ll be a great experience.”

 

\--

 

It was not a great experience.

It turns out that scary costumes are a thing of the past. I expected Victor’s house to be full of ghosts, werewolves, and the like, but I was almost instantaneously bombarded by scantily clad women and guys dressed up as sports stars. I was completely out of place in my vampire costume.

“Are you supposed to be a cat?” A particularly dumb girl asks. She had introduced herself to me weeks ago, but it was one of those names that half the girls you know have. I knew it was a Jennifer…

“Er…no. A vampire.” I say slowly, raising an eyebrow at the blond. She gave me a startled look, and I wondered if my costume was that ineffective.

“Why would you want to be a vampire? They’re so scary!” She says, looking at me wide-eyed. Jennifer was dressed as a pink fairy or some such thing, though it was hard to tell because she looked like a pink version of every other girl in the room.

“Perhaps that is the goal.” A voice rumbles from behind me, and I whip around to see Sherlock dressed as a pirate captain. He didn’t have anything flashy like a hook or an eye-patch, but his detailed greatcoat and captain’s hat told it all. It also didn’t help that he had a dark smudge of eyeliner around his eyes, making the blue pop.

“After all,” Sherlock continues, oblivious to my staring. “You’re still trying to flirt with him even though he’s obviously disinterested. I believe scaring you away is the next best thing.”

Jennifer’s face went a brilliant pink, matching her sparkling dress quite well. Without another word, she whipped around, darting through the crowd of people to get as far away from Sherlock and me as possible.

“That wasn’t very nice.” I cluck, crossing my arms over my chest. Sherlock just gives me a smirk, mirroring my posture.

“But true.” He argues. “You weren’t interested in her. You’re too oblivious when people flirt with you, and she is too idiotic to not notice that.”

I sigh. He’s right, of course, and my facial expression must tell him that I’ve given up, because his smirk grows more triumphant.

“I like your costume.” I say finally. “I was worried you were going to be a football star or something.”

Sherlock chuckles, tugging at the pirate greatcoat as if showing it off. “Your costume is better. I always like a good vampire story.”

I grin, opening my mouth to respond when a voice behind me makes me jump.

“Sherlock! John! So fantastic to see you.” Victor crows, placing an arm around my shoulders. Victor is a football star, unsurprisingly, and his cleats only serve to make him taller.

“Hey Victor.” Sherlock and I respond in sync. Victor beams at Sherlock, giving my shoulders what I assume is a reassuring squeeze.

“Can I talk to you Sherly?” He asks, his lip pouting slightly. Sherlock quirks an eyebrow at Victor.

“Is that not what we’re doing now?” He asks, and Victor grins at him.

“I meant over by the punch bowl.” Victor gestures to the large bowl of punch, which has steadily become less punch and more vodka as the night went on. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but he walked over to the bowl all the same, turning to give Victor a look as if to say ‘why are you wasting my time?’

“Don’t worry, Johnny.” Victor whispers. “I’ll talk to Sherlock for you.” He turns, walking over to Sherlock. For one brief second I was confused. Then I remembered my conversation with the light brunette that happened several weeks ago. My face heats up, and I can only watch in detached horror as they begin to talk.

It seems to start off friendly, both Sherlock and Victor are relaxed as they chat, but all too soon Sherlock seems to get agitated. He glances over at me several times, and each time I look away, pretending to be interested in a painting or someone’s conversation. I don’t get why Greg and Mike seem to hate Victor. This may be terribly uncomfortable, but he’s only trying to be nice.

At least that’s what I thought. Any idea of Victor being wonderful and kind goes out the window when the he leans forward and presses his lips against Sherlock’s.

It takes almost a full minute for me to comprehend what I am seeing, and by that point Sherlock has stopped struggling, and is now snogging Victor quite enthusiastically. And it’s not as if I can look away. The sight is so surprising and terrible that I can’t stop watching, but what really gets to me is how much it _hurts._ He knew that I liked Sherlock, and he waited until they were directly in front of me before he decided to get back together with him. It’s the absolute worst thing anyone’s done to me and…

“Oh yay!” A cheery voice breaks me out of my current state of hyperventilation. “They’re back together!”

I look over to see a beaming Jim Moriarty and an amused looking Sebastian Moran. I give them a weak smile and clear my throat.

“Uh, yeah. Looks like they are.” I say rather weakly. “I have to go now…but I’ll see you guys later.”

“You’re leaving already?” Sebastian asks, and I shrug, trying to look careless.

“Yeah, I’m not…er…in the party mood. Bye.” I make a quick exit, darting through the crowd in the opposite direction of the newly happy couple. If I stay for even a second longer, I would probably throw up, and that won’t win me any points with anyone.

I grab my mobile, punching in Greg’s number. It barely has a chance to ring before he picks up.

“Hey!” He says cheerfully. “How’s the party?”

“Awful.” I practically growl into the phone. “I hate this party and I hate Victor.”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Mike’s voice interrupts. Of course Greg put me on speaker. “What happened?”

I slide through the back door, the night air crisp and peaceful. I am wonderfully and horribly alone out here.

“Victor decided to get back together with Sherlock.” I explain, and the two boys hiss in sympathy.

“I told you he was bad news.” Greg said, and I let out a choked laugh.

“He’s a right arse, he is.” I respond. “Now, how again did you want to ruin Trevor’s reputation?”

I can almost hear the identical smirks from the men over the phone. The excitement is practically palpable, and I swear I hear one of them rubbing their hands together diabolically.

“We have whole lists to go off of.” Mike chuckles. “How quickly can you get here?”

“It should take me about ten minutes.” I tell them. “I’ll start walking-”

With a grunt of pain, I trip over something solid, landing painfully on my elbows and knees. Concern from Greg and Mike barely filter through my thoughts as I stare in horror at what I just tripped over.

“Guys…I’ll call you back.” I tell them slowly, hanging up my mobile and sliding it in my pocket. No matter how angry I am at Victor Trevor, there are some things that can’t be ignored.

Namely, that of body of the pink fairy Jennifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Sherlock's P.O.V on this chapter, you can read [Vampires and Pirate Detectives](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1547579)


	6. Chapter 6

 

I call the police before leaving Victor’s party, letting them know about the body in an anonymous tip. I shot Sherlock a text, letting him know that there was a perfectly good body outside that he could look at, warning him that I called Scotland Yard, and that they should be there soon. He never replied.

Not that I expected him to. Last time I saw him, he had been in the middle of a lovely looking face-sucking contest. I pocketed my mobile, walking down the street rather quickly as I stripped off my cape, taking out my vampire teeth and chucking them in a bin along the side of the road.

It only took me eight and a half minutes to get to Greg’s house, though it helps that I was walking faster than normal, and I cut through a few yards. I was met with instant sympathy, and I hated every second of it.

“What can we do to get back at Victor?” I interrupt before I can hear one of those dreaded apologises. You know, the ones where you have to tell them it’s not their fault, and then they apologise again. The pair shoot me identical grins, all chance of awkward apologies out the window.

“The way I see it, Victor Trevor has three things that make him the king of the school.” Greg replies, grabbing a small chalkboard and a tiny nub of chalk barely big enough to write with. “The boys, and girls, who think he’s some sort of sex god. His hair that he religiously maintains, and we can’t forget his little friends.”

Greg turns the board around so I can read his list that was written in a messy scrawl.

  1. Sherlock Holmes.
  2. His (quite possibly plastic, it’s so perfect) hair
  3. Brain-dead zombies (aka Plastics)



Mike smirks at the list, nodding in approval. “Get rid of these, and Victor is no longer king.” He says cheerfully, causing Greg and I to grin back at him. “Time to destroy the Plastics.”

 

\--

 

 Our plans started the day after the Halloween party. Victor had been complaining all week that his hair was looking less shiny than normal, something we all worked to vehemently deny at every opportunity. It worked to Greg, Mike and I’s advantage, however. Grabbing an empty container from my house, we filled it with foot crème. The packaging was written in Farsi, which was easy enough to play off. I brought the container to school the next day, and I was immediately cornered by Jim Moriarty.

“Johnny!” Jim says as he pulls me to the side. “I wanted to talk to you. Victor feels _so_ bad about what happened last night.”

I shoot the black haired boy a tight smile, and it’s apparently convincing enough, because Jim continues to talk. “I mean, it isn’t really his fault. Victor’s, I mean. He’s just so good looking, so all the boys and girls in the school want him. Who could blame them? But he still feels guilty.”

“No, no. It’s…fine.” I manage to say, trying to ignore the hurtful words. It’s not working very well. “I totally get it. I brought Victor a gift to show him that I’m not mad.”

Jim beams at me, clapping his hands together happily. “Oh, I knew you wouldn’t be mad, Johnny boy! You’re just _so_ nice. Victor will be so happy to know that you aren’t mad!”

I watch as Jim practically skips off. Wait…there’s actual skipping. Jim Moriarty literally skips away from me, and all I can do is watch in disbelief. That kid is weird. Nice, but weird. I pull out the bottle of foot crème, and smile pleasantly at it. “Just wait until you see how _not mad_ I really am.”

Finding Victor is easy as his early morning routine is always the same. I find him camped out in the nicest boy’s lavatory. He’s brushing away at his brown hair, trying to make it stick up the way he wants. I hold out the bottle of foot crème to him, and he shoots me a surprised look.

“It’s special hair crème from Afghanistan.” I say, working my lips into something resembling a smile. “It’s supposed to make your hair really shiny. It’s an apology for making you think that I was mad at you.”

Victor smiles at me, pulling me into a hug. “Oh, Johnny! I knew you wouldn’t be mad. I mean, Sherlock and I make the _cutest_ couple. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh…yes. The cutest.” I respond flatly, but it hardly matters, as Victor isn’t really paying attention.

“It couldn’t be helped. He’s just so in love with me, really.” Victor said, rubbing the foot crème into his hair now. “I mean, who isn’t?”

“Everyone loves you, Victor.” I reply, tugging on my book bag. “I have to go to class. See you at lunch.”

“Bye!” Victor calls after me, waving with his clean hand as I leave.

 

\--

 

The foot crème thing turns out to be a massive failure. Not only did it actually give Victor shinier hair, but Sherlock appeared to love the smell as well, as he kept his face buried near his head. For his part, Victor played up their new/old relationship, running his hand through Sherlock’s hair, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, and smiling not-so-innocently in my direction. It took all my willpower not to just knock the bastard out, and I had to remind myself constantly that I was the shortest one at the lunch table. Not that I couldn’t take any of the Plastics in a fight, but three against one is never easy.

The next thing Greg, Mike and I try is bleaching his jeans, but that ends in failure as well. By the weeks end, everyone has bleached their overpriced jeans, trying to follow Victor’s trend.

Everything we try doesn’t seem to be working. Sherlock still seems to be totally in love with Victor, so much so that he barely talks to me anymore, and the idea of turning the Plastics against Victor seems to be fruitless. A month after the Halloween party, and all we had managed to do was make Victor’s hair smell minty.

However, Christmas time brought all sorts of new prospects, and I had a brilliant idea involving the student senate’s current fundraiser. After all, who didn’t like getting candy canes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today (August 31st) is my birthday, and for my birthday, I decided to update this fic! (Okay, I know it's not a great present, but I didn't know what else to get you...) I would like to apologize profusely for the humongously long delay in getting this out. As I told someone in the comments, my family has been having some personal drama, and while it is of the good variety (once you get past the shock) it is very, for lack of a better word, dramatic. Sitting down to my poor little laptop has been a no-go. (Also, my poor, sad little laptop needed a new battery and plug in, as it would die every time I would unplug it from the wall, but that's hardly an excuse. I just needed to become friendlier with walls, is all)  
> Seriously, I never thought I would get a single kudo on this fic, and now I have the most wonderful readers in the entire world. You deserve hourly updates, you do, and I would give them to you if I could. But for now, I offer this measly present. 
> 
> kisses, hugs, and ladybugs,  
> Robottko


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so desperately sorry for the painfully long wait. I hope shiny booty shorts help make up for it!

Ch 7

“It’ll work.” Greg says to me, and I can see Mike smiling cheerfully behind him. “Seb may be closer to Jim, but he practically worships the ground Victor walks on.”

“He’ll go absolutely crazy.” Mike agrees. “It’s fool proof.”

I’m about to respond, but movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I see that Victor is walking towards me, his normal smirk plastered on his face.

“Victor’s coming.” I whisper, “Quick. Get out of here!”

“Later!” Mike says equally as soft, and the two of them dart off down the hall. I watch as they leave, sighing to myself before turning back to Victor.

“Was that Greg Lestrade and Mike Stamford?” Victor asks when he reaches me. “Why were they talking to you?”

“I don’t know.” I say with a shrug, hoping that I look completely clueless. “They just came up and started talking to me, it was really weird.”

Victor snorts, and it’s obvious that he believes me. “Ugh, those two. They’re so weird. But they’re not important right now. Remember, we have practice for the talent show later on at my house. You’re coming, right?”

“Of course.” I say brightly, and Victor beams at me. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Hey, are you going to buy candy canes for the fundraiser?”

“Oh, god no.” Victor chuckles and rolls his eyes. “I never buy them, I just get them. Which reminds me, I better get one from you!”

“I was planning on buying yours right now.” I reply sweetly, and Victor’s hundred watt smile is back on his face.

“This is why I keep you around. You’re cute, sweet, and mildly intelligent. Anyway, best be off. Sherlock and I have a little pre-lunch snogging to catch up on. Ciao!”

“Later.” I manage to say without gritting my teeth, watching as Victor walks away with an extra spring in his step. I have no idea what he told Sherlock about me during that Halloween party, but ever since then, Sherlock had managed to blow me off at every opportunity.

“Next!” The girl manning the candy cane table calls, and I turn to look at her, smiling brightly when recognition passes across her face, along with a blush. “Oh…hello John.”

“Hey…Sarah, is it?” I say and she nods vigorously. “I am going to need three candy canes. One is for Victor Trevor from me, but can I do something a little different with the other two?” Another nod. Oh, this is going to be easier than I expected.

 

\--

 

Candy canes were sent out the morning before the talent show, and it was in the middle of Maths class that our plan came to fruition. Jim sat on one side of me, and Sebastian on the other. It was the one class we didn’t share with Victor, and thankfully I had Mike in the student government who could decide who would receive their candy canes at what time.

“Ho ho ho!” Came the rumbling voice of Mike, and he was decked out in an Americanised version of Saint Nick. “I’m here to deliver the candy canes!”

The professor waves his hand lethargically and Mike shrugs in response, catching my eye before digging into his burlap bag, pulling out the candy canes one by one. “One for Timothy Dimmock. Nice, Dimmock! One for Jim Moriarty, you deserve it, Jimmy! Four for Glen Coco, you go Glen Coco! One for John Watson, and none for Sebastian Moran. Bye!”

I watch as Mike darts out of the room as quickly as he came, and Sebastian is looking at the candy cane in my hand with confusion.

“Who is it from?” He asks, looking between me and Jim.

“Mine’s from Victor!” Jim chirps happily.

“Mine too.” I reply with a smile. “’Happy Christmas John. Your best friend, Victor Trevor.’ How sweet of him.”

“You didn’t get one?” Jim asks, and Sebastian shakes his head.

“Maybe they forgot mine.” Sebastian replies weakly, “I’m sure it was a mistake, and they’ll be coming in to deliver mine from Victor later on.”

But of course, they never do. By lunchtime, Sebastian is more than distraught, and he pulls me aside to complain.

“I just don’t understand why he would get you and Jim candy canes but not me.” He said, pacing the floor, and attempting to look masculine while doing it. If anyone could pull that off, it was Sebastian Moran. “I mean, he likes me better than both of you.”

“I don’t know.” I reply, trying to sound soothing.

“I just can’t believe it. I am the only one who knows that his hair colour is fake.” Sebastian freezes when he realises what he said, turning on me quickly. “Don’t tell anyone I said that!”

“I won’t.” I promise, smiling in a placating manner. It seems to sooth Sebastian, who gives me a taut smile in return before resuming his pacing.

“I mean, I should have gotten a candy cane.” Sebastian continues. “I was the one who suggested he wear platforms when he complained that he was too short. It made him three inches taller!”

“Platforms?” I ask in confusion, and Sebastian turns to me again, panic on his face.

“They’re special made shoes so that it isn’t obvious.” He says quickly. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” I reply gently, and Sebastian is placated once more.

 

\--

 

“Do I really have to wear this?” I ask, tugging at the red shorts; if you could call them that. They were skin tight and shiny, the tops of them lined with fluffy white faux-fur. Clearly they were supposed to be reminiscent of a “santa” suit, but I highly doubt that Saint Nick would wear booty shorts that barely covered his bum. Santa got to wear a shirt too, but the only thing that was covered besides my private area was my feet, shiny black shoes gleaming in the dim back-stage light.

“You look great, Johnny!” Jim says happily. He appears slightly lanky in his own matching pair of shorts, but it suited him. Sebastian, in contrast, looks overly muscled. I thank every power that I still have my tan from living in Afghanistan. I look at Victor who looks fantastic in the stupid shorts, naturally, and I sigh looking down at myself once more.

“Thanks, Jim.” I reply, taking one more breath before looking back up. “Alright, when do we go on?”

“We’re next.” Victor says absently, eyeing John and Sebastian over. “Seb, you’re on my left now.”

“Left?” Sebastian asks. “But I’m always on your right!”

“Well, we have four people now.” Victor rolls his eyes. “I was always in the middle then, shortest to tallest, but now we have John. He and Jim can be on the outside, and you and I in the middle.”

“But I-”

“Just do as I say!” Victor snaps, cutting Sebastian off. Sebastian looks imploringly at Victor, who in turn ignores him. When Sarah Sawyer, the emcee for the event, announces their act, however, he moves where Victor demanded him too, looking more than downtrodden.

We walk out, and the catcalls began. It takes every ounce of effort I have not to cover my chest and run back out. I peeked over at the Plastics, copying the devilish smirks they had on their faces.

The music to “Jingle bell rock” began, and we were dancing to it. All I could hope was that I wasn’t messing up too horribly. Not that the dance moves were difficult, of course. Mostly a lot of hip gyrating that people apparently found sexy.

It’s about halfway through the song when something bashes into me. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around the body and dip it low, surprised to see that Victor has fallen into my arms. A quick glance up reveals the horrified face of Sebastian Moran, who had apparently run into Victor.

I grin at Victor before twirling him back up into standing position, pulling him into an impromptu swing dance that makes the fall look like it was intended. I dip Victor one last time before the end of the song, and the applause is thunderous.

 

\--

 

“That was the best our routine has ever gone!” Jim said, clapping happily as soon as we’ve gotten backstage. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sherlock Holmes join us, standing next to Victor, but not touching him. He seems rather put out about something, but before I can figure out what it is, Sarah Sawyer’s voice catches my attention.

“Nice job out there, John. You look…really good.” She says, her face reddening before darting back out onto the stage to continue the program.

“Johnny!” Jim gasps. “You like her, don’t you?!”

“I…what, no!”

“You do.” Sebastian joins in, all embarrassment apparently forgotten. “You’re blushing. You want to date her!”

I can feel me face heat up even more, and I look over to Victor and Sherlock for help. Victor is watching me intently, but Sherlock looks even dourer than before, though I have no idea why.

“You two should date.” Sebastian continues. “It would be nifty.”

“Oh my god, Sebby.” Victor’s attention swivels to Sebastian now, anger flaring up. “Stop saying ‘nifty’. It’s never going to happen. God, you’re useless.”

Both Sebastian and Jim’s eyes widen as Victor storms off, leaving Sherlock behind. Sherlock mumbles a few apologies before following Victor. Sebastian huffs, clearly hurt, and I see Jim wrap an arm around him, leading him away from me.

It looks like Greg can cross number three off of our list; Sebastian had snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Brutus is just as cute as Caesar. Brutus is just as smart as Caesar. People totally like Brutus just as much as they like Caesar. And when did it become okay for one person to be the boss of everybody, huh? Because that's not what Rome is about. We should totally just stab Caesar!"


	8. Chapter 8

“You don’t understand how hard it is.” Sebastian Moran has cornered me in the bathroom the Monday morning after winter break had ended. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he’s talking about Victor. Of course, he had called me every day during the break to complain about it as well, so I’m hardly surprised.

“I know. You’ve told me all about Victor, Seb.” I reply, hoping to sound consoling.

“Victor is always bossing us around.” Sebastian huffs as if he hasn’t heard me, though judging by the way his shoulders relax, he’s much happier. “And _he’s_ the one that gets the first choice of _everything._ Like, I always had my hair spiked, and then two years ago Victor decided that spiked hair was _his_ thing, so I wasn’t allowed to spike my hair anymore.”

“But Victor doesn’t spike his hair anymore…” I begin, slightly confused.

“I know.” Sebastian growls. “But it _was_ this thing, so I’m not allowed to do it _ever_.”

“I’m sorry.” I apologise, trying to placate the tall blond, but Sebastian isn’t finished.

“Yeah, and he cheats on Sherlock every day.” Sebastian grumbles, not noticing when I freeze in place. “In the auditorium sound booth immediately after school. With Irene Adler.”

“But they’re both gay.” I say without thinking.

“Irene is only using him so she can get to Kate. Victor is bi, and I’ve never told anyone because I am such a good friend.” Sebastian huffs, looking defeated.

“You really are.” I agree with him. “I bet Jim is looking for you. He called to tell me how much he missed you over winter break.”

“He did?” Sebastian’s attention is diverted beautifully. “I haven’t talked to him since the talent show.”

“Go find him!” I say cheerfully. “He’ll be thrilled to see you!”

Sebastian darts out of the toilets without another word, a hopeful look on his face. Pleased at my invasive manoeuvre, I quickly shoot a text to Greg and Mike.

 

**V cheating on S. After school with Irene.**

I don’t have to wait long for a response, and sure enough, as soon as I exit the restroom, my mobile chimes merrily from my pocket. I open the message, hardly surprised that Greg texted back first.

 

**Operation: BREAK UP now commencing. Sherlock will find out about this one way or another.**

* * *

 

Our first attempt didn’t end up going so well. I had cornered Sherlock in advanced biology after Dr Hooper had finished up the daily lecture. Sherlock had barely looked at me when I told him Victor wanted to meet him in the sound booth after school, just nodded in understanding and left. Of course, we found out the next day that Irene had been absent that day.

We tried every day of the week to no avail, Greg leaving letters surreptitiously, Mike sending emails, and me helping out wherever I could, but nothing worked. Every day one of us managed to convince Sherlock to go to the sound booth, and every day Victor slipped away just in the nick of time.

The only accomplishment we managed that week was to give a bottle of shampoo to Victor that contained a small amount of colour stripper. It would take time, but soon his luscious brown hair would be a thing of the past. The week had been a failure, so I decided on the final day that I would use Victor’s cheating to my own advantage.

“Sherlock!” I call at the end of the day on Friday, running to catch up to the curly-haired brunet. He gives me a wary glance, but he stops.

“What do you need, John?” He asks me, tone matching his gaze.

“I just…I don’t know.” I stutter slightly, trying to figure out a way to repair whatever damage Victor had done at that stupid Halloween party. “I miss going on cases with you.”

“You…do?” Sherlock asks, frowning slightly. “But why?”

“Because you’re brilliant.” I answer honestly, flushing slightly as I do so. “You haven’t solved it, have you?”

Sherlock stares at me for a moment before gracing me with a small smile. “I have not, no. I’ve been stuck in a rut. There seems to be a connection with Jennifer Wilson and Carl Powers, but I haven’t found one yet.”

“Maybe they’re two separate murderers?” I suggest, causing Sherlock to scoff.

“Doubtful. No, it’s the work of the same person. I just need a connection. Anything at all.”

“Food always helps me think.” I offer helpfully. “Maybe we can think at my house? Mum made chocolate chip cookies yesterday.”

“That would be…nice.” Sherlock says, looking faintly surprised. “I confess, I’ve missed your family.”

“And not me?” I chuckle, nudging him.

“You’re an added bonus.” Sherlock winks at me, pulling out his mobile. “Come along. I have to meet Victor later on this evening, and I wish to get some work done.”

“Right, of course.” I reply. “Let’s go.”

Of course, Sherlock never did meet up with Victor later that night, because a third body had been found. Sarah Sawyer had been killed earlier that afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten years ago today, 'Mean Girls' was released in theaters! So, to celebrate, I decided to not only update this fic, but also post a one-shot. It's Sherlock's perspective of the Halloween party! Happy 'Mean Girls' day, everyone!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On this day, August 31st, in 1990, a child by the name of Robottko was born. It was decreed that every year on her birthday, she shall update every fanfiction that is a WIP. So, it is with great honor that I present to you this update.

My mum had been thrilled to see Sherlock at our house once more, and she overloaded us with all sorts of sweets, which Sherlock was surprisingly fond of.

“I think you’re on your tenth biscuit.” I say in wonder, shaking my head as Sherlock stuffs a whole one into his mouth, grinning through the crumbs.

“They’re my favourite.” Sherlock replied.

“It’s truly impressive.”

“Oh, hush.” Sherlock rolls his eyes, but the smirk forming on the corner of his mouth shows his humour. “We came here to work on a case, did we not?”

“Of course we did.” I reply. “Though I’m not sure these murders are connected.”

“You think they’re coincidences? The universe is rarely so lazy, John.”  Sherlock says.

“Well, I suppose I never really knew them well. Only said a couple words to each of them.” I say.

Sherlock’s gaze sharpens, and he looks up at me intensely. “What did they say to you?”

“Well, Jennifer Wilson was flirting with me, you know that.” I say, confused. “And…er, Carl Powers was doing the same, I suppose. Though he was far cruder.”

“Interesting.” Sherlock mumbles, but doesn’t elaborate further. I am about to ask him if he thinks that I have a connection to the case when his phone rings.

“Sherlock Holmes,” He answers, his brow furrowing at what the speaker tells him. “What do you mean, someone died? Victor…no, I don’t care that this means your father will be out of the house all evening, I…oh.”

“Another death?” I ask.

Sherlock nods in confirmation, “Yes, thank you Victor. No, I won’t be coming over right away, I need to have a look. Oh, shut up. Goodbye.”

“Who was it?” I ask, and Sherlock looks over at me, his face grim.

“Sarah Sawyer.” He replies, pocketing his phone.

“Sarah, but she-”

“Flirted with you during the Christmas talent show.” Sherlock finishes, a hard look on his face.

“You don’t think it was me, do you.” I ask, panicking slightly. “I was here the whole time!”

“No, it wasn’t you.” Sherlock says after a minute. “You don’t have the disposition to kill someone in such a manner. But this means that someone is trying to frame you.”

“But…why?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” Sherlock sighs. “Come on, let’s go see the crime scene.”

 

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t take us long to find the crime scene. Of course, the police officers won’t allow us to look at it, no matter how passionately Sherlock argues.

“They’re all idiots.” Sherlock huffs as they turn us away once more. “When I’m a detective, I’ll have full access to the crime scenes, and no one will ignore me.”

“You’ll make a fantastic detective.” I reply honestly, and Sherlock grins at me.

“Victor thinks it’s a stupid idea. He thinks I should become a doctor.”

“Victor is an idiot.” I roll my eyes. “You would have the worst bedside manner.”

Sherlock bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but join him. We clutch our sides, trying desperately to breathe.

“Thank you, John.” Sherlock says, trying to catch his breath, “for everything. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” I say, grinning. “You always do know how to make my day better.”

Sherlock stares at me for a second, and the suddenly we’re kissing, his arms wrapping around my waist as he draws me in. It’s the most marvellous thing I’ve ever done, and I never want to stop. He runs a hand through my hair, and I-

“No, I can’t.” Sherlock pants, pushing away from me, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, I…can’t cheat on Victor.”

“Victor is cheating on you, though.” I shake my head. Sherlock doesn’t look remotely surprised by my revelation, however.

“Yeah, he does that.” Sherlock straightens his curls.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Sherlock frowns in confusion. “He’s the only one that will ever love me.”

“No he isn’t.” I insist. “Loads of people adore you, and anyone would fall in love with you if given the chance!”

“Really, like who?” Sherlock all but sneers.

 I stay silent, my cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Sherlock’s eyes widen as if he’s discovered something impossible.

“But you…Victor said…”

“Victor is an idiot.” I repeat, dipping my head. “You’re amazing, and I-”

I’m cut off with another kiss, this one far tenderer than the last. When Sherlock backs off this time, he’s smiling brilliantly.

“Will you date me, then?” Sherlock asks, and I grin back.

“I…yes. We can’t tell anyone yet.”

“No, Victor wouldn’t approve, would he?” Sherlock says in amusement.

“That’s not what I’m thinking of.” I say, shivering. Sherlock understands my meaning, and he grabs my hand, kissing my knuckles.

“We’ll be careful.” He says, and I nod. We’ll have to be.


	10. Chapter 10

"I can't believe he broke up with me," Were the first words out of Victor's mouth as he sat down at our lunch table.

"Who broke up with you?" Jim blinks, looking at Victor in confusion.

"Sherlock, obviously," Victor huffs, and it takes all my ability to hide my pleased smile.

"Weren't you cheating on him?" Sebastian interjects.

"And you've broken up before," Jim points out. "How is this any different?"

" _He_ broke up with _me,_ " Victor snaps, as if that makes any more sense.

"Sorry about that, mate," I reply without enthusiasm.

"Well, at least someone is supportive," Victor says, throwing a pointed glare at the other two, who dutifully ignore it.

"Why did he break up with you?" Sebastian asks, taking a bite out of an apple.

"Something about not appreciating him enough, or something." Victor rolls his eyes. "I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention."

"Well, this is a cause of celebration!" Jim say happily, clapping his hands together. "You were just complaining yesterday how awful he was, so it must be a relief to get rid of him."

"Oh my god, Jim," Victor says. "Could you possibly be more idiotic?"

"Probably," Jim replies cheerfully, and for a brief second I see something flash in his eyes. It doesn't stay long enough for me to identify it, but it causes my heart to pound quickly.

Jim turns to me, placid smile once again on his face. "How are you holding up, Johnny?"

"I...what?" He can't possibly know about Sherlock and I, can he?

"Well, all the people that died," Jim pouts at me, managing to make it look adorable. "Carl Powers, Jennifer Wilson, and Sarah Sawyer. You flirted with all of them."

"Interesting observation," I reply hollowly.

"Ugh, you sound like Sherlock." Victor wrinkles his nose. "Don't do that. It's weird."

"It's not like I dated any of them," I say, ignoring Victor. "What would their flirting have to do with anything?"

"Jim is just worried about you," Sebastian says. "You know him, he's got a big heart. No need to get freaked out."

Jim reaches over and grabs Sebastian's hand, giving it a thankful squeeze. "I didn't mean anything by it, John. I promise."

"Sorry," I say shaking my head. If I keep acting like this, then people will really start to believe I'm a murderer. "I just didn't want my new...err...boyfriend finding out?"

The lie falls easily from my mouth. It was the best thing I could think of in such a short amount of time; a secret boyfriend should easily distract them. It wasn't a complete lie either, judging by the way Sherlock had kissed me only the night before.

"Ooo! Johnny's got a boy-toy!" Jim all but squeals.

"You have a boyfriend?" Victor asks, looking interested. "Who is he?"

"You wouldn't know him," I lie again. "He's from a different school."

"We need to meet him," Victor says at once. "Have a party at your house this weekend, and invite him. As your best friends, we'll decide if he's good for you or not."

"Right, okay." I say with a sigh. "We'll have a small party. How bad can it be?"

 

* * *

 

"Did Victor invite the whole bloody school?" Greg yells in my ear, attempting to be louder than the pop song that is currently blaring over the borrowed speakers in my sitting room.

"I told him a small party," I yell back. "I think he would have invited every school in London, otherwise."

Thank god my parents were out of the city for the weekend. They had gone to visit grams and gramps, and had approved of me inviting a few friends over. This was probably not what they had in mind.

A glimpse of curls caught my attention, and Sherlock appeared at my side with Mike in tow. Any annoyance at Victor fades at the sight of him.

"Don't look so lovesick," Mike snickers at me. "Victor will catch on that your secret boyfriend is his ex."

"What are you going to do about that, anyway?" Greg asks me, and I shrug. I had told them all what had happened during lunch a few days before.

"Not sure. Tell him he dumped me over the phone?" I suggest.

"That might be your only option," Sherlock says wisely, before stiffening. "I see Moran and Moriarty. Excuse me."

Sherlock vanishes with surprising efficiency for someone that stood out amongst a crowd. I'm still watching the direction he disappeared in when Jim and Sebastian sidle up next to me.

"Who are you?" Sebastian asks Greg in a rude tone.

"No one." Greg replies, giving me a look before walking away. Mike follows quietly as well, looking pleased that he hadn't drawn Sebastian's attention as well.

"So, is the _boyfriend_ here?" Jim asks cheerfully, looking around at the crowd.

"Not sure where he is, to be honest," I reply weakly. "He hasn't told me if he'll be coming or not."

"Oh, he _has_ to come," Jim pouts. "We threw this party just for him!"

I open my mouth to apologise, but I'm stopped by a heavily intoxicated bloke, who proceeds to use me as a full body support.

"Hello," I say politely as I try not to breath. The guy smells like he bathed in beer before coming here, and not the expensive stuff either.

"Yer beautifullll," the bloke slurs, dragging out the 'l'.

"Oh, is this him?" Jim asks, drawing the drunk guy's attention.

"Yuuup!" He responds cheerfully to the question. "M'name 's Oliver Jones."

"You look familiar," Sebastian replies. "I thought John said you didn't go to our school."

"He just transferred," I interrupt, gently pushing Oliver off of me. "He did it to surprise me. Now excuse me, I have to go find someone."

I breathe a sigh of relief when no one follows me. Jim and Sebastian would take care of telling Victor about my fake boyfriend, and in a week I'll tell them that we'd broken up. Until then, Sherlock and I would be busy trying to figure out who was killing the students around me, and how we could make them stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's trash? I am trash! I apologize for the long delay, but I have good news! This fic will be my only focus until its finished. So no more 9 month long waits between chapters!


	11. Chapter 11

There were only a few people that were present when Oliver Jones declared himself my boyfriend, so when he turns up dead in the school gymnasium, I have a narrow list to choose from.

The news spreads through the school like wildfire. Rumours that students are getting pulled out of class to get questioned spreads from person to person, and by lunchtime everyone is restless.

It's nearly the end of the day when my name is called, and I'm brought to the office. The man sitting there looks vaguely familiar. His suit and hair are rumpled, the latter looking like he's run his hands through it in frustration. He stands when he sees me, holding out a hand for me to shake.

"John Watson? Detective Inspector Lestrade."

"Lestrade?" I ask, surprised. "Are you related to Greg Lestrade?"

"That's my son," DI Lestrade replies, grinning. "You friends?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Of course."

DI Lestrade gives me one last smile, then he's down to business, his pen poised over his notepad. There are notes scribbled everywhere, even in the margins, and the little bit that I can read upside down doesn't make sense.

"Right, we just have a few questions for you. A few people told me that Oliver Jones was your boyfriend. Is that true?"

"Not at all," I say with a shake of my head. "He was drunk at a party last weekend, and he said he was my boyfriend there, but only Jim Moriarty and Sebastian heard it."

"Were there people around when Oliver said this?" DI Lestrade asks.

"Err...I suppose so, yes."

DI Lestrade nodded to himself, scribbling something down on the notepad before looking at me again. "What is the nature of your relationship with Sherlock Holmes?"

"I...well, we're friends," I say, and I can feel my face growing hot. "Well, maybe more than friends? We haven't really defined it yet, I suppose. We kissed?"

"Right," DI Lestrade nods, jotting something else down. "Thank you, Mr Watson. That should be everything. If I have any more questions, I'll give you a call. You're free to go."

I stand, shaking his hand once again before making my way out of the office. I'm not quite sure of what to make of my conversation with the Detective Inspector, or what it means for me, but I have a feeling it's not good, especially if people find that I seem to be the connection in these murders.

I spot Greg in the hallway and make a beeline towards him. His rucksack is slung over his shoulder, and he looks about as exhausted as I feel.

"I met your dad," I say as soon as I get close enough to him.

"A lot of people have," Greg replies. "Hopefully this will all be over soon."

"Listen, only a few people heard Oliver say he was my boyfriend," I whisper, trying not to be overheard. "And that was Sebastian and Jim. I think...well, I think Sebastian is the one killing those people."

"Sebastian?" One of Greg's eyebrows lift in disbelief.

"No, listen," I shush him, dragging him closer to the wall. "Sebastian was mad at Carl Powers that first day. You know, when he flirted with me? They had just been on a date, and suddenly he was flirting with me."

"Alright, I'll give you that," Greg sighed. "But what about Jennifer and Sarah? Girls aren't exactly his type."

"I dunno," I say in defeat. "But who else could it be?"

It's at that moment that Victor slinks up behind me, looking unbelievably smug, as usual. "You have the absolute worst taste in boyfriends, John. Everyone who likes you ends up dead."

"Is this some kind of joke to you?" Greg splutters, surprising us both. "There is a dead kid, and you're making jokes about it."

"I didn't think-"

"No, you never think, do you?" I cut Victor off, feeling annoyed.

"John? What's gotten into you?" Victor asks, looking surprised.

"He's annoyed by you. We are all, frankly," Greg answers for me.

"Shut up, what would you know? John and I are friends."

"No he's not," Greg snaps. "We tricked you. John only pretending we could get back at you for being a giant arse. I would have thought you would have figured that out by now."

Victor turns to me, and he starts to say something, but I'm distracted by movement behind him. At first, all I see is Sherlock walking down the corridors, but it doesn't take long to realise what's happening, and my heart constricts in my chest.

Sherlock's arms are twisted behind him, and there is an odd look on his face. It's a mix of anger, shock, and terrified, and when I see Detective Inspector Lestrade walking along behind him, I understand why. Sherlock is under arrest, and I don't have any more time to tell Lestrade of my suspicions.

"Stop, it wasn't him!" I say, feeling a bit hysterical. Sherlock averts his eyes, looking embarrassed, but DI Lestrade looks at me in sympathy.

"I'm sorry, John, but he's our most likely suspect. We have to take him in for questioning."

"But it wasn't him," I repeat. I won't let Sherlock take the fall for something that was clearly my fault, which is why I did the only thing I could think of to save him. "It was me."

"What?" The DI looks at me in confusion.

"John, no!" Sherlock looks panicked.

"It was me," I repeat. "I'm the reason those people are dead. I...I killed him."

The handcuffs are loosened from Sherlock's wrist, which finally loosens the knot in my chest. DI Lestrade looks as if he knows that I'm lying, but with a confession, he has no choice but to arrest me.

"He's lying," Sherlock says quickly, looking stricken as the officers cuff my wrists in his place. "John didn't murder anyone, he can't have done. I'll...I'll prove it!"

The officers continue to ignore Sherlock, and they lead me towards the doors. The handcuffs bite into my wrist, but they're the most comforting thing since I learned of Oliver's death this morning. If Sebastian wanted me out of the way, then this would do it.

Hopefully no one else would get hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left!


	12. Chapter 12

"A bit of a hero, are we, Johnny-boy?" A familiar voice pulls me from my reverie. The holding cell is anything but homey, but the Irish voice of Jim Moriarty manages to make it seem a bit friendlier.

"Christ, but it's good to see you," I say, looking up at Jim. He looks different, somehow. His gaze is inscrutable, and it sends a cold swoop of worry through my stomach. Jim is usually so happy and open, and it's almost scary seeing him like this.

"I wish I could say the same about you, Johnny, but I can't." Jim sighs dramatically. "You ruined all my plans, and that's made me a bit angry."

"What?" I ask dumbly, staring up at Jim in confusion. He's a few inches taller than me, and my seated position in my cell wasn't helping matters. I look around, noticing that all the guards that had been there earlier have disappeared. "Where are all the officers?"

"They were persuaded to check on the other prisoners while I visited," Jim replied icily. "You and I have important things to discuss."

"Oh?" I stand to face him. "What is that, exactly?"

"You ruined my fun," Jim pouts. "Sherlock was supposed to be stuck in here, not you."

"What are you talking about?"

"God, are you really this dumb?" Jim sighs again. "I wasn't try to put you in prison, Johnny-boy. I was trying to put Sherlock there."

"But...why?"

"Because he became boring," Jim replies almost cheerfully. "He is brilliant, almost as brilliant as me, but he decided to side with the _angels._ "

"You're the one who's been killing all of those people?" I feel the horror flood me.

"Don't be pedantic; I would never get my hands dirty, but I did hire someone to kill them," Jim snorts. "It's amazing what money can buy."

"But why?" I can't help but feel a bit lost. "Why did you do it? And why those people?"

"Why did I target people who had flirted with you in particular?" Jim asks, a grin on his face. "Because it was fun, and it was proper motive. Anyone with eyes could see how Sherlock felt about you. It was the simplest way to frame him."

"What about Carl Powers?" I ask

"He hurt my Sebby," Jim shrugs. "That is not allowed."

"So...you went on a rampage because you were bored with Sherlock?" I clarify, feeling way out of my depth. Five minutes ago Jim was a kind, rather simpleminded friend of mine. Now I didn't know what to think.

"I had so much fun, Johnny," Jim practically gushes. "I had planned on bringing Sebby in for the next victim, but I wasn't given that chance."

"So...what? You're going to kill me now, too?" I challenge, adrenaline racing through my veins.

"Oh, of course not." Jim waves a hand. "Not yet at least. I need some sort of leverage over Sherlock Holmes, and you're the perfect candidate!"

"Don't you hurt him!" I snap, causing Jim to laugh.

"You've rather revealed your hand there, John Watson," Jim replies.

"And you've rather revealed yours." A deep voice startles both Jim and I. My heart clenches in my chest when Sherlock steps around the corner, wiggling his mobile between his fingers tauntingly.

" _Oh!_ " Jim practically gasps, his eyes glowing with delight. "I did _not_ expect this. Bravo."

"You didn't expect me to record your conversation with John?" Sherlock asks, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I didn't expect you to work it out this soon," Jim replies easily. "I thought you would go running to big brother for help."

"You didn't think I knew who was behind all this," Sherlock says, "But I managed to work it out at John's party. You were far too interested in his new 'boyfriend' to not raise some red flags."

"And now you have proof of my misdeeds," Jim chuckles. "But you're very much mistaken if you think I'm going to prison."

Jim moves quickly, and before either Sherlock or I have time to react, he's pulled out a gun, pointing it at me with casual ease.

"John." Sherlock looks pained, and he starts to take a step forward.

"Oh no, Sherlock. I wouldn't do that if I was you," Jim says. "Another step, and Johnny-boy here eats a bullet."

"Your quarrel is with me," Sherlock hisses. "Leave John out of it."

"Oh, but John decided to butt in anyway. Very rude," Jim admonishes. "And this way I have better security. You won't do anything if I threaten John."

"You've let your heart rule your head, Sherlock." a voice says from the darkness of the empty hallway. A tall, posh looking bloke steps out from the shadows like a bad James Bond villain. "What have I told you about that?"

"Shut up," Sherlock all but growls at the newcomer.

"Ah, you _did_ call big brother!" Jim says cheerfully. He seems like he's in control of the situation, but I see his steady aim falter, as if unsure of who to point the gun at.

I take the opportunity, leaping forward and grabbing at the gun. I let out a shout of victory when my hand closes around cold metal, pulling the gun out of Moriarty's hand.

“Why you little-” Jim growls, whirling around to face me. Before he can do anything, however, a swarm of guards flood the corridor, stopping Jim in his tracks. It’s utter chaos for a few moments, and I completely lose track of Sherlock and his brother.

“So, _you’re_ the famous John Watson,” A voice distracts me from a snarling Jim getting arrested. It’s Sherlock’s brother, and he’s looking at me curiously, as if I’m some sort of experiment. “I trust you’ll be good to my brother.”

“Is this the part where you threaten me?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “Because, you know, I’m in a jail cell. I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon. You have nothing to worry about.”

“No worries, you’ll be released soon. Not even a mark of this on your record.”

“And you can do that?” I ask

“I occupy a minor position in the British government.” He says. “I can talk to some people.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sherlock interrupts, making his way through the retreating group of guards, Jim glaring back at us as he’s lead along the hall. “He practically runs it. Mycroft, I thought I told you to- John, you’re bleeding.”

I look down at my leg, surprised to see my jeans soaked through with blood. I lift the material, hissing as it scrapes the wound. The gun had fired as I grabbed it from Jim, and I hadn’t noticed in the resulting scuffle.

“It looks like it just scraped my leg,” I reply, looking up at Sherlock. He looks pale, and I reach out to grab his hand.

“If he had hurt you worse, he wouldn’t have left this room,” Sherlock mutters, giving my hand a squeeze.

“I’m okay, though,” I reply. “We’re both okay.”

“He’ll be back, you know,” The man named Mycroft says. “He’ll want revenge.”

“That’s okay,” I say. “We’ll be ready for him. I dealt with Victor and his Plastics all year. One mean guy isn’t going to scare me.”

“Me either,” Sherlock says. “When he comes, we’ll be ready for him.”

Mycroft gives us a brief nod, before turning to follow the path the guards had taken. He’s holding an umbrella, something I hadn’t noticed before, and he twirls it more pompously than I ever thought an umbrella could be twirled.

I let out a small snort, and Sherlock returns it with a grin. Maybe we had a lot to worry about, but for just this moment in time, grinning up at Sherlock like a complete idiot, I felt I could truly be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe this fic is finished! It's been a long process, and many of you have had to wait exorbitant amounts of time between chapters, but we've finally made it! I want to thank each and every one of you. Your unending patience and encouragement has meant more than you could ever know. Please know that I adore you, even those that never commented or anything. The fact you clicked on this story means the world to me. Thank you thank you thank you!  
> Robottko

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://robottko.tumblr.com/) for more ficlets, funny cats, and to appease the internet overlords


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